If Only
by Joanna May
Summary: Narcissa was the perfect Pureblood wife and mother. The perfect daughter. A lousy cousin though.


A solitary tear slid down a porcelain cheek as trembling hands folded the newspaper. Two lines. A name, two dates. An apology of sorts, fifteen years too late. That was always the way it was. Better late than never, they said, but was it? It might as well have been never in this case, for all the difference it would make. 'Sorry' didn't bring him back. 'Sorry' didn't make the pain go away.

Narcissa supposed she only had herself to blame for the way she now felt. After all, things could have been different. He had always been there for her, and she had thought he always would be. No matter what time, day or night, she could have gone to him, and he would have welcomed her with open arms and a joyful smile.

Except now he couldn't. Now, when she needed him the most, he couldn't be there. And no amount of apologies could change that simple fact. He was gone, and she was left behind. That had always been the way, since they were young. He had been the brave one, adventuring forward through life with an indomitable lust for the unknown, while she had remained behind, meek and mild. Subservient and demure, the perfect Pureblood wife and mother. The perfect daughter.

A lousy cousin though.

Narcissa wanted to scream. To lose her temper, let the grief flow free. And yet, she couldn't allow her frosty mask to slip. Even now, when she was more alone in the world than she ever had been before, she still couldn't let her guard down. To do so would be to let everything out. To face her flaws, and to realise that they only person she could blame was herself.

She didn't know why she felt so empty. They hadn't seen each other for years, save a brief encounter on a visit to Azkaban. Narcissa should have put him out of her mind. She had a husband, a beautiful son and heir to the Malfoy name. She had exquisite gowns and jewellery custom made by the best designers the wizarding world could offer. What more could a woman want?

Him. The guilt, the lust, the passion that came with him. That came to her when they were alone together. He would have gone to the ends of the Earth for her, and yet she wouldn't even have left her cost Manor.

If only she had taken him at his word. If only she had dared to run away, to leave the past behind her. If only she had been as brave as he had. If only they could have been together, in another time. If only…

Dwelling on the past would get her nowhere. Memory lane is a dead end, as her mother used to say. The Blacks strove forward, constantly facing the next hurdle. Constantly overcoming the challenges life threw at them, with a smile on their face and a thrill in their ever so perfectly pure blood.

The sound of the door closing made Narcissa jump. Scrubbing the back of her hand against her cheek, she looked around. There in the doorway stood Bella, a wild delight in her normally sullen eyes, and a smile playing across those ruby lips.

"You've heard the news, then?" She grinned.

Narcissa made a non-committal sound, yet inside her anger boiled. She knew Bellatrix had been the one behind his death, and yet she hadn't realised before how much it would hurt her. How could Bella stand there and grin, when a good, decent man was dead? When Narcissa's only hope of freedom had been destroyed, simply in the name of 'The Cause'? How could Bella smirk as her own wand lay in her pocket,

"Narcissa? Aren't you glad? Aren't you happy the filthy blood traitor got what he deserved?" Bella looked at her sister, confused as to why she didn't share Bella's rampant joy. "Narcissa? Answer me!"

Narcissa wasn't aware she had rise to her feet, but apparently she had. Chest tight with emotion, she flung her wineglass at her sister. The smashing sound it made as it hit the wall only irritated her further.

"You don't get it, do you, Bella?" She screamed, aware that with her wild eyes and expression she probably resembled a harpy, "I loved him. He was my one hope, my one chance to ever escape this hell you call the perfect marriage"

Bella's eyes widened. "Narcissa, don't be ridiculous. He was filth, scum."

"No, Bella. If I have to learn a lesson from this, it's that you're the scum. You're a filthy murderer and you have no place in this house. Get out"

Bella blinked. "You don't mean that, Cissa."

"Believe me, Bella. Things have never been so clear to me as they are now. Get out." Narcissa surprised even herself with the force behind her words. Her voice, before so precariously close to tears, had a calm to it that even Bella couldn't ignore.

As her sister stormed from the house, Narcissa sank back onto her chair. Propriety be damned, what she needed was a good drink. A flick of her wand summoned a lurid bottle of firewhiskey, and she poured herself a large dose. The ache would remain, but it was dulled for now. However, she couldn't stop his voice echoing through her mind.

"It's all very well to pass the responsibility to someone else, Narcissa, but what about when there's no-one left to take the blame?"

Raising her glass, a twisted smile parted her lips. "Well, Sirius, let's see, shall we?"


End file.
